


New Dimensional Trip

by nuabo



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Feels, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Fluff and Humor, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Soft Jeong Yunho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27179482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuabo/pseuds/nuabo
Summary: Jongho was an average high school student. Nothing happened in his life that was memorable.That was until the day he woke up to a stranger on his bed.(Or the one where Yunho was a friendly ghost unable to leave Jongho's side. Neither of them knew why.)
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Jeong Yunho
Comments: 14
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

…

THE MORNING STARTED IN THE USUAL WAY.

With Choi Jongho screaming.

To be correct, Jongho normally did so _internally_. In the privacy of the capacity of himself.

He tended to scream in frustration, too. Not in a blend of fear and uncertainty as he did then.

Jongho’s volume outright startled the direct recipient of the sound. It was enough so that the male dutifully blocked his ears. His lower lip jutted out, petrified.

He inched away from Jongho.

The stranger had settled on the end of Jongho’s untidy bed. Long legs dangled over the edge.

The named male woke with his alarm and, in blinking away the remnants of sleep, noted the shifting weight on-top of his bed covers. He gazed at the other for a split second.

That was when he unleashed the cry. His addled, half-asleep brain was unable to compute anything except the oddity of the random entity in his bedroom and how wrong it was.

“Jongho, why are you yelling? Is there a spider?”

Jongho cut off in his action at the breakthrough of his mother’s voice.

She spoke with a sharp edge to the question.

The male outwardly sulked at that. He had no idea how others perceived his deplorable request for remedy, sure. But he was confident that most people would check in urgently to ensure he was not being murdered or the like, what with how strident the commotion was.

“Sorry,” Jongho replied. He resisted a pout. “Yeah… There was a spider.”

He heard his brother’s snort, even at the distance from where Jongho was at to the kitchen.

The older sibling gritted his teeth. Displeased, he almost went to turn back in for a long snooze. That was more appealing to him than being chortled at for his promoted dealings with pretend arachnids.

“Uh, hi?”

Jongho snapped his attention back to the boy who teetered on the bed’s edge.

The aforementioned male gave him an apologetic look as if to accept and redirect the blame for the shock to Jongho’s system. The greeting volunteered nervously.

The boy was young. Jongho wondered what his true age was. His height and proportions proposed he must be a high schooler, too. Else his rate of growth was otherworldly.

There was something in the manner the stranger blinked that made Jongho feel a strong wave of protectiveness. It was delicate, and his eyes were so wide and gentle.

That mesmerising charm would’ve made Jongho blush outside of their present predicament.

“Hello,” Jongho gave a friendly welcome. He maintained eye contact with the figure for a time, mapping his features to his memory. Everything about him was alluring; the shape of his lips, the slant of his nose, the warmth in his eyes. Painfully unrealistic, Jongho recognised.

It was a shame his subconscious teased him with how temporary the picture of the angel was.

Jongho slumped onto his stomach. He yanked the covers over his head.

The disgruntled breath of his dream-like prince knocked out with the abruptness of Jongho’s decision. The poor being thumped with his collision to the ground. He gave a pitiful whine.

“When I wake up again, you’ll be gone,” Jongho mumbled into his pillow.

Guilt itched at his skin for the event, but not for a sustained measure.

Jongho was talking to himself in acknowledging the male, he decided. That meant any apology for the conjured-up male hitting the floor because of Jongho and his greed to sleep was virtually null in character building of himself. He was communicating with empty air. Jongho was a gentleman, just not for something as contrived as his silly illusions.

He hummed, his voice lowered with the push for him to lapse into slumber again, “Maybe you’ll appear in my dreams again someday. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’m not a figment of your imagination,” came the feeble protest of the stranger. His voice deeper with the insistence to defy Jongho’s opinion. “You have to help me. Please.”

But Jongho had no energy to offer a sound reply. He fell quickly back to sleep.

…

The day went by predictably when Jongho awakened for the second time.

The male had been pounced on by his caring brother when he didn’t get up for breakfast.

It took every degree of his patience to not throttle the younger male, who remained cheerful and poked at Jongho’s cheeks. That brought the internal screaming in frustration around.

When Jongho surveyed his bedroom after the fiasco, he observed no tall, handsome boy.

Which made Jongho’s assumptions correct. He’d dreamt the stranger up.

He didn’t let the disappointment take hold of him for long.

He hurriedly gathered himself and his belongings up to venture to school before he’d be late. His mother managed to get him to grab his jacket before he dashed off to his bus.

Being fuelled by nothing made his mood sour, but Jongho braved the journey with music. He was invested in his curated playlist. It was a pleasant practice of escapism.

Jongho’s classes went by at the pace of a snail. He kept his focus to the front of the room, though it wavered with the brunt of the material each teacher tried to drill into the students.

It dazed him to try pull apart what anything meant. The influx of new information was too great for the male to actually keep pocketed in the recesses of his brain.

Jongho’s aversion to his education stemmed largely from how _empty_ the learning aspect seemed. He lacked interest in the hollow feel of the classroom. He knew no real ambition to work through the subject core. The boy was satisfied to just survive the years in high school.

Jongho relaxed when lunch came around.

He reclined in his chair; the stretch nice. His joints had been stiff in his rigid posture.

He was grateful he could get a break from it and closed his eyes to relax at that moment.

Although the place was far from quiet, Jongho felt calm. His life was perfectly mundane.

That peaceful sensation dissolved when a chair scraped against the floor in proximity to him.

Jongho didn’t flinch with the screech of the furniture movement. He cracked an eye open.

“What?” Jongho asked gruffly to the male who settled his seat next to him.

His friend had a mischievous glint in his glance. It was one that ruffled Jongho’s feathers. The male lost count of how many times that worn rascality put them both into trouble.

“There’s a rumour going around that the heir of the Hwang Group killed someone in a drink-driving crash,” Sunwoo stage-whispered to Jongho. Gleeful to be at the forefront of breaking news. “It was a high school student in Gwangju he hit at a pedestrian, they’re saying.”

“Okay,” Jongho intoned. He gave his friend a blank look to signify how lost he was as to why the news was relevant to him. Everyone knew of how highly-rated the Hwang name was in South Korea, of course. For someone with modest finances and exclusion from the corporate world, Jongho failed to see why a scandal should be entertained by _him_.

His world still turned and all that. There was no excitement for him in such dealings.

Sunwoo grunted in disapproval. Jongho’s lukewarm reception dispelled the energy he gave out from being so keen. “It’s the most interesting news that’s occurred all year, come on.”

As Sunwoo talked, Jongho absently organised the books on his desk. He ignored Sunwoo ploys to recapture his attention with finger-snapping. Sunwoo was like a stray cat on most days.

The male was also fiery to another level in his recent hair dye job. The red strands were relatively intense for Jongho to peer over at.

It made Sunwoo stand out, which was what he’d desired.

“I don’t think anyone should put their noses into anyone else’s affairs,” Jongho reasoned. He stood to make it a point his stomach grumbled for food. From there, he continued, “Everyone will probably bring up the driver over and over again the media. Is the victim okay, though? Do the articles specify anything about him other than his age? It’s always the same. People only care about gratification to think power is threatened, not about the one who suffers.”

Sunwoo gave him a sullen sigh. One reserved exclusively for Jongho.

Jongho thought that was what true friendship was: Having specific grumbles to what the other person did. Unique and granted only to that special creature for such token annoyance.

“You’re so strange, Jongho,” Sunwoo pointed out. At Jongho’s perturbed mien, he persisted, “I can’t imagine how you see the world. You’re my friend, but you just sounded far too wise just now, you know? You should break out of your own bubble, even if it’s not as comfortable. Live like us, gossip like us. Just for a bit.”

Jongho gave an eye roll to that aptness. He was grateful to Sunwoo for how the male did encourage him to be less introverted, but Sunwoo chided him made his self-esteem slip.

Sometimes, Jongho didn't feel a sense of belonging with where he lived and who he knew. He was disinterested in most things.

Everything was in passing. Nothing had the power to keep him an avid soul to stay fascinated. There was a lack of substance for Jongho to bank on with it.

He wanted to believe it was just indifference that came with being a teenager. He feared what implications that blank slate had for him if that were not proven true.

He'd wait for whatever to spark something vibrant in him. That's what he told himself. It kept the prowling shadows at bay.

To save face, Jongho stood up. He reached out his hand and managed to hurl Sunwoo up to his feet too.

The swift motion had the friend openly gape; bewildered by the show of strength. 

Jongho smirked; his pride shot up a notch. He'd always be able to mystify Sunwoo with that trick.

The dark-haired male pointedly yawned when Sunwoo squeezed on their clasped hands in mild terror at the display.

It proved effective thus to cut-off the lecture that started on Jongho’s borderline social isolation.

Like that, they stalked off to their meal and returned to serve the remainder of their school day.

Monotonous. That was Jongho’s world.

…

After being demolished in all the ways one could be at the PC bang, Jongho finally returned home.

The vendetta against his friend pushed to the back of his mind after making the trip back.

With a shout to greet his family, the male dragged his feet down to reach his room.

The fatigue took hold and all he wanted to do was to curl underneath his sheets.

With a prompt closing of his door, Jongho turned to take in the sight of his room.

He froze.

“Hello again! I’m sorry to be intruding. I actually hid from you when you got up properly. Under your bed, I mean... That sounds weird to say, huh. I didn't want to upset you again, so I thought I should wait before I tried to do anything here... Oh, _wow_ , I like your uniform! You must be a high-school student too? I’m in my last year, I thought earlier you were hyung to me, but now—"

The blabbering didn’t cease. Jongho, however, tuned the rest of it out for that time. 

There, on his bed, sat the same boy from the morning. The lighting of the room made his endearing eyes even brighter. His pale complexion brought out redness at the tips of his ears. Only, when Jongho blinked, that colour was gone.

 _Huh._ The shyness, at the commencement of the second shared meeting between him and Jongho, not limited to the anxious lilt in his voice.

The stranger shook even with his affirmed spiel. The pace of his words was rather segmented.

It made Jongho’s head swirl. He swallowed; his throat dry.

“—And then I tried to leave, you know, because I read over _so_ many books to keep occupied. I really like what you have here, by the way, your collection is very charming! I was---"

“Stop.”

The male immediately cut off at Jongho’s command.

Jongho tried not to let how deflated he looked to get under his skin. He swore the boy crumpled inwardly.

The way he resigned to pull his limbs in together to make himself smaller broke a part of Jongho’s heart, though.

As if he scolded a puppy for its worth in its retribution.

The stranger maintained the tender show of teeth he had, though. It was forced.

“Look,” Jongho began. The stress headache was oncoming, he detected already. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, whether you were put up to this as a prank by someone I know or not. I don’t know if this is a trend to do, to spook someone out by appearing as you are on their bed. I’ll say this clearly: I am not in the mood. I’m not someone who wants a part in this joke. Please, go.”

As expected, Jongho’s hope his statement was lasting and correct fell completely through.

“This isn’t a prank.” The stranger spoke. Desperate. “I know it must seem impossible, and I know you are confused, too. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know who you are.”

Jongho raised an eyebrow at that. Either the boy was an incredible actor or telling the truth.

“I don’t believe you,” Jongho, ever-the-sceptic, told him.

At that, the other male’s weary smile dropped entirely. He gave Jongho a considerable look.

The range of emotional depth that it pertained brought a chill down Jongho’s spine.

The entity pulsated with something very unbecoming of a human; he knew of no anchor.

The hardship he was facing, from what Jongho could perceive, more than one could convey in words.

The wretchedness, past the boy’s attempt at light-hearted introduction, bled through the store of the colour of his very irises.

A dive without surfacing.

It was anguish no one as young as the stranger should know.

And Jongho didn’t know how to process that. Not even slightly.

Although he wanted to free himself of the burden of the unknown, Jongho believed him.

When Jongho trusted in anything, the conviction tended to cloud all else for him.

There was no denying the sincerity the male had anymore. Not after that lapse of silence.

“I’m Choi Jongho,” Jongho offered. He stepped forward, trying to find how to carry on.

He had no clue what he was doing, why he had softened up easily. Everything about the circumstance was a red flag, even if the boy was being completely honest.

Jongho knew he shouldn’t let himself be guided to entreat the other to stay.

He was wrong to try and get to know the lost boy.

 _You ought to back away when you have the chance._ His better judgment pleaded with him.

“I’m Jeong Yunho,” and the other reverted back to his natural smile. Stunning, dazzling. “It’s nice to meet you, Jongho. I’m sorry I’m here… I know you must be afraid of me, like this.”

Jongho gingerly shook his head. “Don’t worry, what’s important is getting you home now.”

At that, Yunho frowned. The crease in his brows noticeable. “I don’t know how that’ll work.”

“Why not?” Jongho asked. Something in Yunho’s composure concerned him.

For someone blessed in height and shoulder width, the boy was so small. It was jarring.

“I… can’t leave,” Yunho mumbled, his face downcast. “I tried, I tried everything. My body isn’t working right, I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like it phases through the handle when I grasp it? I was able to hold the books before, and I seem to have considerable weight when I sit here, so I don't understand why I can't get the door open myself. I tried to call out to your mother and father earlier, but I couldn’t make any noise. I thought it was a beacon of light when your brother came in a few hours ago – don’t worry, he was just taking a shirt of yours from your closet, I’m sure he’ll return it, he seems nice – because the door was finally open. He didn’t even notice me, while I was still right here. So, I raced to go before he went out… But I couldn’t make it through, not even then. It was like there was an invisible barrier in the doorway, something blocked me from going past there. I’m stuck here. I can’t leave. ”

With that, Yunho gave Jongho a tender gaze. “And you’re the only one who can see or hear me.”

Later, Jongho would reflect it was interesting how things can come full circle.

The night started in an _unusual_ way.

With Choi Jongho screaming. Externally though.

…


	2. Chapter 2

...

THE RINGTONE WAS CALMING.

With his phone pressed to his ear, Jongho relaxed along to the rhythm.

His nerves were frayed at the edges. The noxious fumes from the smoulder in his ribcage fainter, though.

The distraction with the music tamed that visceral gnawing at his lungs.

The male tried to take slow, deep breaths to keep his composure.

The night was young. Jongho was relieved that meant he had the option to reach out.

The recipient of the call answered after a few more seconds elapsed.

“Hello?” Jongho asked. Tentative, and out of sorts with himself.

“Is that my Jongho? Wow, your voice is so much deeper, you’re growing up well,” came the elated response.

The woman sounded pleased to the extreme.

Jongho pictured her with a delicate twinkle in her eyes. Her affability was strong and unyielding.

The slow rasp in her words was a familiarity to him. He clutched at it, like a child.

“It’s good to hear you too,” Jongho acknowledged. He cleared his throat next and psyched himself up for his query. “Grandmother, I have a question I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it dear?” Jongho’s relative was polite albeit confused.

That much her grandson identified from the punctual raise in her ending pitch. 

It was unlike Jongho to steer their conversations in such a serious manner. Mostly, his grandmother would chat, and he’d listen. They’d also be in direct contact, not over the phone.

His grandmother preferred to chirp on about his fine looks. Hugs were her specialty.

There was a marked contrast to that with his elected and immediate change to that routine. 

Jongho never came to her with a request. Not in all his visits or forwarded updates.

He almost wanted to laugh to himself at that fact. _There’s a lot of firsts today._

“Has our family ever been cursed?”

...

Jongho trudged back to his deckchair. Deflated.

He lifted the pen back to his sheet. He angrily crossed out the seventh line of the bullet point list underneath the heading ‘ _Reasons Why I’m Being Tormented by a Random (Invisible?) Boy’._

Jongho confirmed the six other things on the list were incorrect. First: Yunho wasn’t a summoned demon. Jongho checked reputable online resources, all the forum people implied demons didn’t have such a tendency to be sweet and approachable. Yunho also didn’t prescribe to the physical descriptions of horns and tails. His facial features were very human. Unnervingly so.

He wasn’t a demon. Jongho was certain.

Yunho gave off the impression he was an angel.

Second: Yunho wasn’t an angel, however. Jongho clarified that. He tensely skimmed through detailed accounts of individuals who wrote practical encyclopaedias on alleged angels. He checked religious references, slightly out of his depth. Nothing added up, though, to match Yunho for it.

It seemed that he was just angelic in definition to Jongho.

Jongho pouted when he realised Yunho lacked wings or a halo. He probably should’ve clocked that before trailing after supportive evidence Yunho could be one.

Third: Yunho was not a vampire. Jongho might’ve slyly left to source out a garlic clove. Yunho didn't react to the waft of the strong scent. Jongho even tested out getting a peek of Yunho from one of his mother’s make-up mirrors. No dice.

Yunho’s face reflected back. Stoic and firm.

Fourth: Yunho wasn’t hired by his brother to prank Jongho. To be fair, Jongho would never claim his list made sense in its order of preferential searching. Also, instead of going to his brother, Jongho decided to call around and test the waters with his brother’s friends.

He offered to them a mountain of beef if they confessed his brother had secretly orchestrated a joke on him. All the friends dismantled the notion with the truth that serrated Jongho's spirit. They did inform Jongho of his brother’s schedule for pranks, at least. It would let Jongho rest easier to be a step ahead in that respect.

Jongho's mood crumbled when he finished that trail. He more or less already solidified it wasn’t an act. Yunho was downtrodden from his peripheral when Jongho begged the friends to confirm that there’d been something amiss that evening organised by his own brother. 

The fifth and sixth bullet point items were put together in the same vein to one another. Jongho changed his tune to reflect whether something had changed within him to be a witness to Yunho. He tracked what he consumed doing the day to validate he wasn’t suffering effects from a detrimental cause. He tried to check if he was in a lucid dream, too. Which proved futile, because he’d never been more awake in all his life.

Jongho was of sound body and mind. Tragically.

That same male sighed. Deep and unsettled.

Jongho had hypothesised for over an hour like that. He failed.

He’d next been confident a hex might’ve been imposed on his Choi lineage.

One that came to fruition with him in particular.

Alas, his seventh suspected reasoning fell through.

The grains of sand slipped through his fingers. He retained nothing in his efforts to account for.

Sadly, Jongho’s grandmother dismissed that possibility. Instead, she confirmed the nobility of their ancestors. She spent over half an hour recollecting the history of her own great-grandfather, and how celebrated and good their relations were. They were without fault.

To be fair to his naïve grandmother, Jongho knew there were not free of crime.

Although, the only relevant imprisonment of oneself their name possessed came to be that they were banned from attending the local swimming pool. 

And that had been Jongho’s brother’s doing. 

Jongho never managed to summon up the courage to find out how his brother acquired all those tadpoles. That was another mystery for another day.

Maybe that was Jongho’s fate.

Endless detective work and making sure his brother stayed out of trouble. Mostly.

“Are you really not going to talk to me?”

Jongho refused to turn at that. He found temporary relief, from how very vexed he was at his dead-end, by scribbling on the page.

The ink ran deep enough to cause a tear in the sheet. The paper was weakened by the sheer force of the pen in its heavy-handed jolt.

Jongho hadn’t any different plausible entries as to Yunho’s motive. He was at his wits’ end.

There could be a million explanations. He was lost.

He felt like he had headed greatly off-course to picking up on resolving the mystery. His mind was exhausted.

“Jongho... Please listen.”

Jongho forced himself not to relinquish whatever vow he made to ignore Yunho at that plea.

The hurt in the male’s tone close to impossible for him to stay distant with. 

He knew that Yunho likely wasn’t to blame for their predicament.

The longer spent in one another’s presence, the harder it was to suspect the male of being devious.

If anything, Yunho appeared to be a victim of the entire mess that unfolded on them both.

In all that Jongho drummed up to explain what was known and obvious, he never managed to factor in Yunho having a role that made him inflict any form of pain.

It made his stomach turn to try and create such a version of the male.

But Jongho didn’t want to give him the space to break down his walls.

He was hesitant to listen to Yunho.

Reproachful, he imagined Yunho might still be a siren or worse deceptive creature.

Although Jongho liked to consider the other a model of rectitude, that wasn’t sufficient to him.

It didn’t matter if Yunho were innocent; he still brought an imbalance to Jongho’s life. 

Jongho couldn’t afford to hold on to Yunho’s figuratively outreached hand.

He wouldn’t let himself build a relationship with the male outside of their strange acquittance. The mystical element to Yunho’s appearance, and his inability to leave Jongho at that, tied Jongho with adamantine chains. Yunho wasn’t just a normal person to him. He never would be.

Still, the nature of the male was so sincere. It hurt him, Jongho thought, more than Yunho to be closed off. He wanted to learn more, to talk openly with the male.

He regretted so much as exchanging names by then. They were already too close for comfort.

Jongho didn’t like how easy it was to want to gaze at him in wonder. 

With that, Jongho started a new mind game. Yunho was basically Medusa to him.

If Jongho stared into his eyes, he’d be turned into a statute or something to that terrible accord.

_Maybe that should be number eight on my list._

_Wait._

_I’ve already looked at him._

Despite himself, a flicker of optimism stayed alive inside of Jongho that Yunho would eventually turn around anyway and _bam!_ it’d been a terrible joke all along.

All the nagging, the suspicion, and misgivings would evaporate in an instant.

Only, Yunho really was a terrible liar. Jongho noted how he fidgeted and how wide-eyed he grew when Jongho asked him, after their introductions, had he been in Jongho’s bed all day.

The boy had _squeaked_. In disbelief, Jongho watched Yunho try to claim he’d been situated on the floor, minding his own business there for the period in which Jongho wasn’t home.

Jongho hadn’t intended to target the poor male with his question. His inquisitive side had kicked in. He wanted to establish the rules of Yunho’s seeming _captivity_ to the bedroom.

It was terrifically amusing to see how hard Yunho tried to cover up the reality.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.”

Jongho blinked hard at that. He snapped out of his memories, taken with how dejected Yunho’s voice was. It seemed he’d reached his limit.

The liveliness was drained out.

Jongho massaged at his temples with his fingers.

He cursed at himself and then broke his own stupid rule to distancing himself off.

He moved to accompany Yunho on his bed. He gave a half-grimace, the air colder to him.

“I’m sorry,” Jongho admitted. He made sure to respect Yunho with eye contact. A small portion of Jongho prayed he wouldn’t be punished for the action. Everything was riddled with a layer of uncertainty to him. “I’ve just been trying to figure out everything.”

“I know,” Yunho said. He locked his gaze to his hands. “I saw that’s what you were doing, and I think that’s the right tactic. Process of elimination to the possibilities, right?”

Jongho nodded. The sadness in Yunho’s form left him rooted in place.

He willed the other male to speak more. Because Jongho didn’t know how to apologise.

At that moment, Jongho realised it. Yunho, up until his call for Jongho to talk to him, had been silent and watchful over Jongho for _hours_. How Jongho tested out every worst notion, that Yunho was a technically monster in some varying degree. Cursed to be with Jongho.

 _I’m an asshole._ Jongho told himself. He wished he wrote that on his points to prove or disprove. Rather than scribble it into something that couldn’t be deciphered, he could’ve appointed a neat trick to it. A comment added: _Yes, Choi Jongho, you are an asshole._

_You see nothing beyond yourself._

Yunho, clearly scared and confused, was left with Jongho who openly disregarded him and decided to rectify the situation alone. It was uncalled for, by every known truce of any decent person.

That was when Jongho gradually opened a new door. Not the _hows_ and _whys_ to Yunho being present. Rather, the _whos_ and _whats_. That stood out to him, like a glorious light.

List abandoned, Jongho took a new direction.

“Yunho,” he drawled. At his change in demeanour, Yunho lifted his head in curiosity.

“Yes?”

“Tell me about yourself.”

...

When Jongho woke up, he swore he had deju va.

Nothing was out of place in his room. All as it ordinarily was.

There was a building sensation, though, that he failed to starve off. A feeling of expectation.

“Good morning!”

At that, Jongho soundly fell out of his bed. The shock too much to process.

“Ow,” he managed, a beat off. He rubbed at the arm he landed on. His cheeks burned.

He already knew he’d have a nasty bruise to the skin there. He’d never been clumsy.

 _Maybe the universe has lost control of itself._ He mused. Everything was newly odd.

“Sorry!” Yunho gushed. The male hurried over to Jongho’s side. He awkwardly tried to position the younger male back into a seated position.

Jongho bristled at that but allowed it.

Yunho’s touch was soothing. It left an inexplicable warmth in Jongho’s heart.

It flashed a whirl of energetic carnival rides and the taste of candy cotton to Jongho. He wished he had the words to convey that merriment that came.

It was too short-lived.

“I’m okay hyung,” Jongho responded, embarrassed. He hung his head. Bashful by then.

It was still fresh to refer to the other by the honorific. The pair established Yunho was older by a year, and Jongho smartly adapted to keep to that distinction between them.

_“I’m Jeong Yunho. I was born in 1999 on the 23 rd of March, and I –”_

_“—Oh no,” Jongho broke in. Mortified, he ducked his head down. He covered face with his hands. The shock bubbled over. “You’re my hyung! I’ve been calling you informally all this time, oh no. I'm sorry, hyung."_

_What Yunho did next baffled Jongho._

_The male smirked at him. Coy and plenty repugnant to witness that duality in his character. "I did tell you already I was in my final year of high school. You should've remembered. It's bad to be informal to your hyung, you know. You might owe me for that."_

_It sent hot shivers down Jongho’s spine. The authority the other held pacified his outcry._

It had been endearing to learn of the facets of the elder’s life to Jongho. He’d was raptured by Yunho’s skill at storytelling. Granted, Yunho spent nearly the entire night informing Jongho of the ins and outs of his friend circle at length enough the younger male began to muddle up the supplied names. To see how delighted Yunho was left Jongho no regrets to listen for those hours.

He had no progress made to impart a new perspective to the connection Yunho had to him.

Jongho found an assignable portion of him didn’t want to trace to that, though. He liked how it felt to laugh and hear Yunho’s world.

Although they had little in common, it was beautiful.

Yunho was beautiful.

Never mind that he had no clue as to the events that led to his teleportation and imprisonment to Jongho’s bedroom. He only shrugged at it. He stated it felt like he was in a dream.

Jongho agreed with that sentiment. He wondered how deep dreams could go.

Because, then, every time he woke it was still to Yunho.

And that surely was a dream.

Yunho was the one who must’ve pulled back the curtains to greet the day. That would have explained the incandescent stream that got Jongho back from the sea of other worlds.

Jongho really needed to test out the extent to which Yunho could interact with objects. It really amazed him how he felt the other male’s very skin on his, it seemed, but Yunho wasn’t even able to open the door that sealed him to his present dilemma.

The youngest knew he’d’ve been rather snug in his slumber. The dried drool on his chin spoke for itself. Jongho really hoped Yunho failed to notice it. He wanted some dignity.

“Hyung, you’re still here again.” Jongho made to start a conversation with that. When Yunho’s cheerful expression immediately fell, he back tracked. “I mean, that’s good!”

“It’s… _good_?” Yunho echoed. As expected, Jongho failed to generate a captivating chat.

“I think the fall out of my bed did something to me,” he tested out. He almost fell into the lie.

“Huh,” Yunho commented. Like that, the nice atmosphere wasn’t salvaged. The mismatch too great for either male to overcome. Jongho wished he could just be able to talk _right_.

The younger male got himself to get ready for school. The tasks for such were harder, what with how aimless he felt. He swore it was Christmas, and all he wanted to do was spend days playing with his new toys over doing anything else. Jongho wanted to stay with Yunho.

He contemplated making up an excuse for his parents to stay homesick. The issue would be that Jongho _never_ had taken a day off school before. It was a competition with Sunwoo he had. They both owned shiny trophies dedicated to the fact they refused to be ill with rest.

Frankly, Jongho was a true victor in that. Sunwoo once had to leave school early two years ago because he drank expired milk as part of a dare. If his friend wasn’t the best at testifying his side to be the right judgment, Jongho would’ve been sailing with the spoils of his win.

Alongside that, Jongho’s mother saw through each and every lie he tried to tell her.

In all his years of life. He never managed to pull the wool over her eyes.

That left him stuck to go ahead and welcome another day as a high school student.

It was difficult to pull away from the ache to divulge more into why Yunho lingered.

Despite it all, Jongho felt recharged and daring. He was already formulating a plan of action to help get Yunho back into the world outside of Jongho’s collection of ballad track CDs.

It was only when the young male moved to leave that Yunho cut through his thoughts.

“You’ll come back, right?” he asked. The question was more loaded than Jongho understood.

There was a dimension to the implication he didn’t know how to thread upon.

Yunho assessed him with trepidation that heightened Jongho’s affection for him.

There was so much he yearned to uncover of the stranger. The journey was just starting.

“I’ll come back,” Jongho promised him. He smiled, eager.

Yunho returned the gesture. “Thank you. I’ll miss you. Be safe.”

Again, it struck Jongho how much weight came into the exigency the elder held to him.

He opened his mouth to break that ice. To try to commiserate with Yunho’s disposition.

“Hyung, do you have any toothpaste?”

Jongho watched as Yunho receded back when Jongho’s brother sounded such an interruption.

“Aish, that kid,” Jongho hissed. The moment was gone.

So, Jongho cleared his face of the expressed qualms his sibling brought. He gave Yunho a quick wave.

He sensed the male was caught off-guard by the call. “I’ll see you, hyung. Just wait.”

Yunho nodded. Softly, he spoke, “Goodbye, Jongho.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support towards this story. I hope everyone has an amazing Halloween!


	3. Chapter 3

…

IT WAS SAFE TO SAY JONGHO WAS NOT MAKING THE MOST OUT OF HIS PROFFERED EDUCATION THAT MORNING.

He did try to concentrate for the first hour, to be fair. More than he normally would, even. The motivation to impress someone made him resolute. If he was an assiduous and attentive being, surely the cards would be in his favour in life. It made him very much indefatigable.

Frankly, it turned out to be pointless. When the bell rang for the next class, Jongho was a goner. He blinked back to the present at the sound and zoned out once more with a snore.

He was unable to stop thinking about a certain boy.

There was a heft to the thoughts he had. He felt as though he were multi-tasking within them. He tried to resolve some that needed further inserted answers. Simultaneously, he worked against falling into scenarios that danced across the forefront of his mind.

Namely, Yunho beaming shyly at him with those bright eyes of his.

He’d put the industry that pivoted Bambi out of business. Jongho was sure.

He was _that_ cute. Anyone and everyone would be upstaged by the male just blinking.

Miles away from the actual location he resided in, Jongho flicked the pages of his book on cue. In his peripheral vision, he followed the other students with a fraction of his attention span. He didn’t want to risk the penalty for how disruptive his mind was to his student profile.

He was thankful no one could detect and scrutinization his rumination. He’d be dubbed unhinged. The whirlwind of his reverie would disturb them.

Outside of the lighter aspects in his trance, though, came adversities.

They were cemented into his brain in the manner of a thousand and one basic questions.

Did Yunho need to eat? Did he need to use the restroom? Did he need to change his clothes?

What if Jongho _pushed_ him out of his room? Would he ram into the invisible barrier or not?

What if Jongho’s house burnt down while he was at school? Would Yunho be okay?

If Jongho told anyone else of Yunho’s existence, what would the consequence be?

Jongho planted his face on his desktop. He knew it was puerile. He needed that respite.

It was staggering how uninformed he was to just about everything that revolved around Yunho’s manifestation. He hadn’t even offered the male any space to discuss fundamental things with him. It was only in due course Jongho acknowledged the implications of Yunho’s stay with him. The nitty-gritty was suddenly vehement to the younger male to put into perspective.

Jongho lifted up his head when a low whistle diverted his attention from his internal monologue.

Sunwoo made the obtrusive noise. He’d been seated to the left of Jongho.

The male was watching him. Critically enough that Jongho straightened his posture in embarrassment. His friend’s lips quirked in confusion. His glance was beseeching.

It made Jongho feel prickly. He knew no better way to convey the bothersome sensation cast.

When Sunwoo was suspicious over something, it didn’t end until he was appeased over it.

The teacher was quite occupied by reading from the textbook. He completely failed to notice the discourse between the two males. Too convinced of the influence of the Hague Secret Emissary Affair on Korean independence. Jongho was glad the mentor was diligent about it.

Sunwoo pointed discreetly at the phone he had on his lap. Hidden from the view of the teacher, but only slightly. If the older figure came close to inspect, it’d take seconds for him to notice the device. The daring means to communicate with Jongho not so suave as Sunwoo thought.

Jongho asserted to the alert and took out his own phone.

Rules were made to be broken, he told himself. He secured what time it was as he unlocked the phone. The class was only half-way through. It soured Jongho’s mood to find out that.

 _‘What’s wrong?’_ Sunwoo’s text supplied to him. The friend took to a sequence of stickers to dominate the rest of the conversation. It was his forte to make Jongho dizzy with them.

The quiet male mustered up enough energy to type out the reply. _‘Just tired. I’m okay.’_

 _‘You look more disheartened than when South Korea lost the World Cup.’_ Sunwoo was fast in texting back. His description almost brought a surprised laugh out of Jongho.

The named male felt he reserved the right for that moping. It _had_ been a bitter defeat.

Rather than letting himself verbalise his feelings, Jongho sent off a sad face emoji.

He peered back over to Sunwoo, who was not satisfied by Jongho’s cushy answer.

 _‘If you want out of this class, just say the word,’_ came Sunwoo’s next message.

Jongho clicked his tongue. The gratitude he held for Sunwoo’s loyalty wasn’t intact in its rare form. It mixed in with the primary concern of how eager his friend was for mischief.

He knew better than to ask Sunwoo to articulate what plan he’d have to achieve that goal.

He motioned to his friend his disagreement to the concept with a quick headshake.

Visibly disappointed, Sunwoo shoved his mobile back into his pocket. The red-haired male returned his focus to the lesson. The set of his shoulders highlighted how peevish he was.

Sunwoo was perpetually doleful whenever forced to miss out on the chance to cause an uproar.

It’d be all too simple for Jongho to feed him the cause to turn the place upside down.

The male turned back to his book. He traced across the words, willing them to be transported to whatever sector herald over his long-term memory. He was lost to where the class group was within the chapter by then, having missed much of the prodding for the page turns.

He sank back into his chair. There was nothing he could do other than wait for the school day to end. Astringent as the fact was, Jongho adjusted himself to it.

He’d be home soon. That pacified him.

…

Sunwoo grilled him as they left the school gates. The sun hung low in the sky, but Jongho thought his day had begun. He was deliriously happy to be outside and headed away.

Jongho listened plaintively as his friend hammered on about his aloofness. Distinctly, he wanted to interject with a defence that there was a good enough reason for his distraction.

Only, Jongho had expanded on the _the-world-might-implode-if-I-expose-Yunho-to-anyone-else_ idea and did not want to find out if there was truth in the single statement.

In a more private twist, Jongho liked having the secret. It made him feel special.

He and Yunho had a connection. Although ambiguous, they were affiliated.

“—You didn’t even do last night’s homework,” Sunwoo parroted on, “how could you? Is our bond not sacred to you? We’ve established you do it today, since elementary! I feel betrayed. No, worse than that. I feel sad. You know, you’re lucky Mr. Choi didn’t check—”

Jongho hoped he was nodding along to the right parts. It was hard to guess. Sunwoo was melodramatic that he didn’t let up on his contextual gestures and drive to add theatrical flair.

“—You’re nodding without listening.”

Oh. Jongho really misjudged himself. He’d been nodding continuously. Without pause.

“Sorry,” he said. He was rash to get on Sunwoo’s good side. The softness in his apology implored his friend to forgive him given how infrequently Jongho utilised the delicacy.

By that point, they’d reached Sunwoo’s house. Jongho waited for his friend to speak again. Pulsations of excitement ran rampant through him. He was a stone’s throw away from being reunited with Yunho. Yunho, who was waiting for him. Yunho, Yunho, Yunho.

Sunwoo blew out an angry puff of air. He pouted at Jongho, who kept his head bowed in retribution. “It’s fine. If you need anything, Jjong, you know I am here though, right?”

Jongho nodded, touched by the seriousness Sunwoo gave. He wanted to let his friend know everything was probably okay with him. Too many things were left up to him to be figured out first. He was unable to really do much for Sunwoo apart from pretending to be fatigued.

“Thank you,” Jongho responded to the male. Sincerely, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Sunwoo waved him off. He didn’t appear mollified but did not protest as Jongho left.

Jongho was sure he’d need to put together a coherent approach to reassure Sunwoo. He was unclear yet whether that would involve lies. It hurt to imagine him having to fool his friend.

The circumstance Jongho found himself in made him think he was a different person already.

With record-breaking speed, he sprinted past the busy streets and came to stop outside his front door. He ignored his own panting, too caught up in being back in his bedroom.

He wrestled with his key to gain access to the place. It gave him another level of traction to race onward.

Jongho wasn’t disappointed when he swung open the door to his room.

There, Yunho was the equivalent of a teddy bear.

The older male sat dutifully by the pillows on Jongho’s rather immaculate bed.

“Hi!” he greeted the younger male. Mellifluous for the younger male to hear.

The relief was evident in Yunho’s facial attributes. The apprehension wiped away seconds after their gazes met. When the male clarified it was Jongho who entered, he was elated.

Jongho cleared his throat. He returned with an awkward wave, unsure of how best to proceed.

He was lucky he managed not to swoon. He wanted to indulgent in the delectation of the single word for longer. He wondered if he could bottle it up; make it a remedy for all ills.

The soft, tranquilising spell of Yunho’s voice felt like home to Jongho.

The silence was persistent to force something out of him.

“Your cheeks look like mochi, hyung,” he commented.

Yunho’s laughter was serene.

It made Jongho’s corresponding fluster become worthwhile.

…

Pretty soon, Jongho was nestled up against Yunho’s shoulder.

They’d been able to establish key parameters of Yunho’s presence.

It turned out Yunho didn’t possess the need for… _human functions,_ so to speak.

He’d stammered out that he hadn’t the urge to eat, sleep or use the lavatory. He also remarked how he didn’t seem to sweat.

Jongho was off-put by that.

“What did you do instead of sleeping last night?” he asked the older male.

“Waited for you to wake up,” Yunho admitted.

Jongho was pretty creeped out. He made that known. “You could’ve just played on my gaming console, hyung. That might’ve been better.”

It turned out Yunho didn’t know he had that source of entertainment on hand.

His poor whines made that clear.

“Hyung, do you remember anything else?” Jongho pressed on. He nuzzled more into Yunho’s proximity. It was odd how much he gravitated toward the male.

It felt natural. Puzzlingly so.

Yunho hummed, then gave a sigh. “I don’t know. I’ve spent most of the day trying to leave again, trying to think of what to do. It was pretty much the same story as what happened yesterday. I’m here, and only you know that. It’s been lonely.”

Jongho turned to inspect Yunho’s countenance. The edge to the elder’s sentence ached.

He needed to add up the pieces, to be able to free Yunho from this realm of existence.

Yunho didn’t deserve this happening.

“Will you sing?” Yunho asked, after a beat of comfortable silence.

“How did you know I sing, hyung?” Jongho complained. Without any true malice, he nudged against the older male with his elbow. He peeked at the other to confirm the action was welcomed.

“You’re loud in the shower,” came the playful rebuttal. The smirk was fitting on him.

The biting retort dissolved in Jongho’s mouth the longer his gaze remained on Yunho. The beauty of how peaceful he was too great to overcome. Jongho didn’t deny him. He couldn’t.

That was how time passed between them. Their exchanges trivial and egged on by jest.

Jongho knew he ought to return to his list-making accost of the practical stranger. He made minimal progress in ascertaining Yunho’s life in the four walls of the room.

He had to make a breakthrough. Eventually, he had to turn over the page of that beginning.

Yet, they star gazed out Jongho’s window and offered words like waves across the sand. It took advantage of Jongho’s ambition. He liked to think it could be habitual for them.

When Yunho teased him, and he blossomed newfound delight at it. Like he’d known Yunho all his life, as they were able to come to effortless topic changes and keep the pace steady.

At some point, Jongho rested himself upon Yunho’s lap. It happened at some point or the other without much thought. It was along that position, though, that Yunho glanced down at him. There, again, came such an avid concern in Yunho’s expression.

It was the same that he wore in the morning when Jongho had bid him goodbye.

“Will you really stay with me?” Yunho’s voice was so quiet. The tenderness was fragile.

"I'll stay with you as long as you need me to,” Jongho promised him. He inched up from where he was and stretched out his hand. When Yunho understood what he wanted, he followed Jongho’s lead. The older male giggled; it chimed like bells.

They interlocked their pinkies and spoke that form of vow in unison.

After that, Jongho demanded they occupy themselves with something fun.

Yunho was mystified as Jongho pulled out his laptop. The younger male opened a browser up to set a movie to play, smug that he managed to make Yunho overzealous by the setup.

Jongho may or may not have searched up the best things to do with someone you liked.

Watching a movie together had been high on the supplied suggestions.

Even though Jongho was exhausted, he didn’t give in to the moonlight’s lullaby. He once more pressed close to Yunho’s form and let himself be held captive to the film.

It was only toward the end that something out of the ordinary rose between the pair.

Jongho, bleary-eyed but dedicated to following the plot, was confused when Yunho shifted abruptly. The older male was mostly unaffected by the action of the scenes, without an ounce of fear that Jongho could place upon him. He’d been upbeat and peppy if anything else.

The obvious agitation that swept Yunho up rendered the younger male abashed.

“Hyung?” he questioned. Timidly. He resisted the instinct to turn straight away to take stock of how Yunho was. He knew not to put the elder on the spot like that. The pressure of a gaze too deplorable if Jongho moved too rashly.

Yunho trembled in place, as far as Jongho could feel.

He recoiled away from the younger male’s call.

When Jongho gradually turned and observed him, he came to deduce an unshakeable clarity.

Yunho was traumatised.

His expression was tell-tale of an immense terror that made him crumble. The range of how the emotions snared him made even Jongho shudder with their solidified tension.

The younger male had experience with his brother to be able to discern the details of helplessness Yunho must have felt. The complexity didn’t clue him in on the root cause that spurred Yunho on, though.

The guilt ate away at Jongho. Indirectly, he put the strain on Yunho to remind him of whatever hurt him. 

In his sibling’s case, it was when their uncle died. They’d been young enough they didn’t fully grasp the meaning of death, but Jongho understood better the implications.

His brother, however, suffered more of the brunt of the shock it brought. He’d been the last to remain by their uncle’s bedside when the time came for the relative to pass.

Jongho remembered exactly how the boy wept and was inconsolable.

His brother grew quiet afterward, uninvested, and perturbed by life for some time.

It had been a gradual journey to restore his sibling’s past self. It was largely his age that helped to navigate him back, Jongho believed.

The innocence and trust in the belief their uncle was at peace and eventual lasting comfort. It helped.

Despite that, Jongho’s brother had not overcome the event entirely. Jongho knew.

It was seared into the younger male’s brain indefinitely. Whenever sickness or death was mentioned, his brother would outright stiffen and withdraw himself for a time from the interaction.

When Jongho gazed at Yunho, his sibling came to mind painfully clear.

Like that, a push of protectiveness came over him. He was thankful for the wisdom he garnered to not back away. Not pensive to act on his own accord.

He was accustomed to how to handle the situation.

“Hey hyung,” Jongho whispered, careful. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Jongho didn’t feel actual tears.

He registered that as another add-on to the growing list of what Yunho could not do.

But, Jongho was too taken with rocking the elder back and forth in his hold to fully consider it. It didn’t cross his mind whether or not Yunho could physically cry.

Jongho would embrace him regardlessly.

…

When the early sunset spoiled his weary eyes, Jongho went to the kitchen. Everyone else in his family had already headed out for the day. That left him and Yunho to their own devices.

Without the requisite to be wary of their commotion. Jongho mused that it would be just _him_ being heard. Not even a peep of Yunho would be audible. He could abuse that privilege and send Jongho into complete torment with yelling on behalf of Korea.

It made Jongho smile while he acquired his favourite cup. He pictured what type of lazy Saturday they could have. A feeling akin to the flight of butterflies came to take over him.

The blustering whirring of the coffee machine changed that. With the stentorian operation of the machine, Jongho became introspective. Too mild. He allowed himself to be complaisant.

The fresh weight of Yunho’s suffering was ice in Jongho’s veins. He willed himself not to be overwhelmed by it, though it seeped in such frigidness to his heart.

When he finished up and clutched at his warm beverage, Jongho realised he needed to text Sunwoo. He hastily sent off the communication to inform his friend he was alright.

When Jongho verified the message was successfully delivered, it flashed across his mind.

He heard Sunwoo, as though underwater. The muffled draw of the timbre out of place.

It came to overlay on the scene from that movie. The way the car struck the character, the horror-struck faces of the onlookers at the lamentable climax of the generic plot.

It was a slap in the face to Jongho. How obvious it could be. How dense he’d been.

He moved to settle by the table. He hoped that Yunho didn’t ponder over his absence. Jongho readily dropped down into a chair and opened back up his phone to its Internet browser.

He searched up the date and event with stanch regret in his fingertips.

Like that, he found himself scrolling through a long article as his first hedge bet to understanding it all. The speculation and inconclusive claims were rife in the text. The sensationalist journalism made it a challenge to find any actual details of the accident itself.

The interest the author had, Jongho noted, exploited the accident to make a snipe at the Hwang family. The timeline of the event was obscured by the flaunting of the collective Hwang media affairs. Infidelities and bankruptcies dotted around the length.

Jongho exited out of multiple vague reports. They all echoed each other.

Frenzied, he skimmed the screen in those attempts to try and pick out the keywords that mattered to him. He bypassed irrelevant information and the photos of the Hwang heir.

Near the end of his tether, Jongho cursed. He thought later he’d have a bone or two to pick with the journalists who lacked the capacity to make truthful headlines.

The agenda they pushed made his blood boil. Uncouth and unfavourable.

Someone died. That ought to have been the focus. The only name that deserved recognition.

Just when Jongho’s patience was adamant for him to give up, his endeavour came up fruitful.

For a sacred time, he located and digested a witness account of the crash.

_‘---“He saved my life,” the male, who has requested to remain anonymous, revealed in his statement to the website. “I wish I could thank him. I owe him everything.”_

_The police have clarified the identity of the victim of the collision. The family of the deceased were able to confirm his identity as Jeong Yunho—”_

The force of Jongho’s heartbeat felt as if it slammed into a rib. It fractured something integral of him. The shards that came of the impact scattered. They penetrated deeper into his lungs.

The flashbacks were triggered instantaneously. In rapid succession, Jongho was subjected to the subtle outliers that made it undeniable what was an answer to Yunho’s mysterious form.

Yunho’s touch that brought a chill to Jongho’s skin. The elusive manner the older male moved, not truly grounded on his feet. His very presence, adrift between when Jongho was there and when Jongho was absent. The gaps in Yunho’s memory. How he was equally as lost and frightened as the younger male. Unable to sense what had transpired of himself.

That persistent inkling of Jongho’s that Yunho wasn’t quite real was louder than ever.

His instincts already alert him. Yet, Jongho chose not to entertain the idea of how cruel a twist it was. Being a demon, an angel, whatever incarnation or jubilant spirit was fine by him.

Jongho would rather Yunho was a ferocious dragon in disguise. Anything else. A creature with a heartbeat who came to Jongho in a state that wasn’t in another dimensional plane.

Yunho was dead.

It hit Jongho square in the chest. The realisation that dawned like morphine to numb him.

With the reassurance that nobody was within earshot of him, Jongho took a deep breath.

He then relented, to the unsettling confirmation, with a harrowing scream.

“Hyung’s a ghost,” he wailed to himself. The catch of disbelief in the fact planted a sanctuary. Maybe, if Jongho stayed to that refusal, he could make it become reality.

As Jongho tried to overcome the strange bout of grief that came, he acknowledged something else. A sprout that grew to be graver to nurture. Staggering to even repeat back to himself.

Yunho didn’t know he was dead.

With that, Jongho buried his head into his hands. He pictured the older male, jovial and calm.

There was no one more seemingly compatible with life. No one was as hyper and humoured by the schisms of the world. Yunho exuded an energy of pure vitality.

His stamina was ceaseless. He was endearingly infatuated with every new day. 

The reaction Yunho would give, even in Jongho’s imagination, made the younger male weep.

His mind became vacant. The tirade of the river gave way to a flood sealed inside of him. Distraught, he scarcely breathed.

 _How do you tell someone that they’re a ghost?_ Jongho didn’t know.

But he grimly accepted that he would find out.

…


	4. Chapter 4

…

THE STREET WAS QUIET.

Jongho yanked down at the strap of his bag. His steps felt automatic. He surveyed his surroundings, dazed. Unclear as to how to continue, yet aimlessly trudging along despite that.

The bead of sweat across his forehead informed him that he wasn’t quite out of touch with his direction for that evening. Try as he might deny it, the throes of reality were not removed from his senses. He was breathing and living a way that was both familiar and brand-new.

Jongho took in the brilliant lights that produced dancing shadows from the storefronts. The simplicity of their glow was reverent to him in a way he never truly noticed before.

Nothing had actually changed about the place where he was. The only home he knew.

He was the one that was different.

His vision altered to see more. He needed to learn to adapt to that new prescription, even though his instinct was to fight it off to return back to that limited perspective he once had.

Jongho wondered if that strange bout of wonder and fear would eventually lift. The weight had him unsteady on his feet. Cautious to every corner, unprepared for every given turn.

 _For hyung,_ he insisted to himself. He kept his expression impassive as he moved forward, unnoticed by the groups of people who brushed past him. Their voices were lively as they talked amongst themselves. Dressed up in the same uniform as Jongho. Students like him.

When he was left alone again in the area, the chatter fading into obscurity with distance, Jongho sighed. He closed his eyes, willing himself to gather up the courage he needed.

The past week and a bit had been the best he’d known. Somehow, though, it'd been the worst too. The liberation and the consternation, in being with Yunho, co-existed in him. That very juxtaposition left him caught between exhaustion and determination. Those strong qualities were volatile when they interacted. They were impossibly exponential in their growth.

One would dominate. Jongho feared the exhaustion was to be crowned the victor soon.

Because it was _hard_.

Not alone in the secrecy that befell Jongho, to conceal Yunho and pretend to his family and Sunwoo all was well and nothing was out of the ordinary. Not just to Jongho functioning as normal, attending his lessons as though his world wasn’t ripped open to be at a new frontier that came in how Yunho turned everything he knew upside down.

The thing that kept Jongho awake was the vacant look on Yunho’s face that the older male tried his best to not let pass. That visage let Jongho know how much it hurt the elder to be trapped in a territory not his own. It didn’t matter how close they were becoming; Yunho was not Jongho’s to keep nor was Jongho supposed to be left with Yunho from then on.

There was no route Jongho could take to protect Yunho if he continued in that bliss of ignorance. Ever since he learned of the accident, he knew that was true. He couldn’t shelter Yunho from what would be inevitable. In the time Jongho had acquired, he needed to act.

As much as his heart ached to think of saying farewell to Yunho, especially that soon, Jongho was willing to harbour his feelings aside to secure that Yunho would be freed from his current state of being. He had to help the older male to go beyond Jongho’s room.

Jongho needed to know how to look after Yunho, at the cost of doing it all alone.

 _For Yunho-hyung._ He blinked back to his present, and his resolve grew less unsure.

The image of the taller male, with a smile that showcased all his teeth and his booming laughter, rattled Jongho enough to restore the motivation that wavered in his journey.

The young male finally arrived at his destination. He was greeted by the window that appealed to the items it boasted for sale. They were carefully arranged to entice him.

At least, as much as books could. Which, to Jongho… Was not an awful _lot_.

It was just not his preferential hobby. He swore he heard his mother scolding him at that.

Before he second-guessed himself again, the male forced himself to hurry and enter the place.

He was relieved to find that he was one of the few individuals inside. He had an inkling that the late hour on a weekday would be an advantage to him to privately conduct his search.

Jongho headed off to one of the shelves, out of his depth albeit tenacious enough to try to figure out where he was looking for. A specific brand of reading material that was not obvious.

The books were lined up so neatly he nearly didn’t want to disrupt their original order. Jongho, however, could only note so much from discerning their titles and authors on the displayed spine. He peeked around, securing that no one was interested in him.

Encyclopedias on the Internet failed to give him an exact outlook on his predicament. With that rationale, he emulated what he’d seen people do in old films: Do research in a library.

Mainly because the online retellings and shared knowledge was a mixed bag. A portion appeared genuine and accurate in its accountability. After clicking on the fourth falsified link that gave him a ghost jump-scare, though, Jongho gave up trying to gain traction there.

Admittedly, he misplaced his library card a few months ago. He was afraid of the librarian who presided over the local branch, too. So, he took the route of making a very grown-up decision to test the waters of the nearest bookstore instead of the confrontation that’d be imminent to gain a replacement card, with the lethal daggers of Mr. Lee from the helpdesk.

It felt more detective-like to sleuth around like that, Jongho believed.

Who’d want to handle the children waging war over crayons and teenagers stalking crushes there anyway. Jongho had bigger fish to fry; a larger part to lead than to be confined there.

Never mind his brother had a book overdue under Jongho’s account, too. That didn’t matter.

With a nod of encouragement to himself, the male pulled out a book at random and analysed its synopsis. Without much luck, he repeated that process for the next book. He did so again.

And again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Oh, and again.

“Why are all the non-fiction books autobiographies?” Jongho muttered, tucking the title in his hand back into its spot. They’d be no remote lure of the keywords that buzzed in his mind.

Ghost. Spirit. Apparition. Phantom. Undead. Poltergeist.

Surely there was a sizable market to that realm of writing. There just _had_ to be.

Jongho needed there to be. The torment of ignorance in the face of everything happening in his life was too great of a burden for him to handle for much longer. He needed answers.

After twenty minutes elapsed with countless books inspected and dumped back to their placements with lessening regard to their neatness, Jongho settled on a new plan of action.

He approached the paying station, taking stock of the figure that stood behind the register.

The male didn’t appear to be far off Jongho’s own age if the named male were to hazard a guess about it. He made up his mind the staff member was more than likely a college student from the area. Taking up part-time jobs in the like wasn’t unheard of for that demographic.

The stranger was handsome, all sharp angles and exuding the same energy as a webtoon leading love interest. It made it a little harder for Jongho to summon the courage to speak.

It was bad enough to request help, never mind ask someone only a year or so older with model proportions. Jongho had one too many experiences with being dismissed by the like.

At the very least, the staff member didn’t give off the impression of being a bored twenty-something who’d rip off Jongho’s head for bothering him. Jongho was an optimist.

The male in question gave himself permission to be plaintive for a millisecond. Afterward, he forced himself to resume with the task at hand, iron for a heart, and steel for a body.

“Hi,” he greeted the stranger, steady and clear, “I was just wondering if you knew if this store had any books related to… uh, related to… ghosts or spirits?”

The other male gawked at him outright, utterly confounded by Jongho’s query. He did have the decency to gather his composure about a split second afterward, seemingly catching himself on. Jongho only prayed he didn’t elicit that response from where he felt his expression fall. He didn’t want to be a pitiful, weird kid in the eyes of the other.

_For hyung, you’re doing this for hyung, all that matters is Yunho-hyung._

“Supernatural Fiction is that way,” the male stated. He gave a timid smile, one reserved for being plastered on to keep up with the demands of oddball customers. That’s what Jongho presumed, at least. Nonetheless, the staff member gave a jerk of his head to the far left. 

Jongho grimaced when he spotted the shelf. It wasn’t the ideal setup to explore for actual details about ghosts. Cleverly crafted convoluted tales of Caspar the Friendly Ghost instead.

“I was hoping there’d be a section for it that was... non-fiction?” Jongho prompted. He awkwardly averted his eyes down at the eyebrow raise it garnered from the staff member. His stomach fussed with the unease, but Jongho kept his ground. He had gotten so far already there.

What was another sticker of indignation on his figurative scrapbook that had pages already full of them? Jongho reflected on it. There was dignity in knowing the extent of his lack of.

Overall, the other male wasn’t that fazed by the unusual question. He seemed more rehearsed than earlier. His smile intact and his gaze dedicated to Jongho’s. At least, the stranger’s mannerisms alluded to no judgment or presumption with his composed answer.

“We have a few titles that deal with real-life paranormal activity and long-standing murder investigations over in the Crime area,” he disclosed, neutral in face and tone. “We also have some reading related to spiritual mysticism if you browse the bookshelf just by it.” 

Jongho was extremely grateful and very flustered, “Thank you so much, uh... “

“Seonghwa,” the other told him, his geniality too sweet for such an occasion, “my name is Seonghwa.” He eyed Jongho’s drab uniform and added, “Hyung’s fine.”

Jongho nodded at that, feeling conspicuous to the familiarity that struck him. “It’s nice to meet you, Seonghwa-hyung. Thank you again for your help.” 

The younger male practically scuttled off to the recommended shelves with that. In doing so, he failed to notice Seonghwa’s fond chuckle at his antics. Their introduction was nuanced.

…

“You’re home late,” his mother said.

Jongho looked up from where he stood, perplexed by the appearance of his parent. She wasn’t wrong: He ended up in the bookshop up until closing, unable to find the urgency to leave. Once he got started in finding the pertinent facts and figures about ghost experiences, Jongho found himself absorbed in the details. He’d been carried away and resorted to jogging home to maintain some degree of minutes, to the late hour, that wouldn’t act against him.

He tested out a meek smile at her.

His mother wasn’t convinced by that attempt to rectify things. “What were you doing out?”

“I’m sorry, Sunwoo and I were studying for a test,” Jongho lied, his eyes kept to the ground. It was a cheap tactic, and the truth was Jongho hated to deceive his mother.

“Jongho, Sunwoo called around earlier to ask why you weren’t at basketball practice,” the woman rebuked. “What are you hiding? This isn’t like you. He misses you, and the coach isn’t happy that you’re not letting them know why you didn’t turn up today.”

Jongho felt hot tears stung in his eyes. He had no idea how he managed to forget about training; it was something of muscle memory that he’d turn up, the sport one of his favourite things. He’d been concentrated on retrieving all he could grasp for the Yunho situation he hadn’t even been at lunch with Sunwoo for the past few days. He used his time to finish up on homework to have the freedom to spend his time with Yunho without any guilt or worries.

The expectations on his shoulders made him now perfidious to others.

The sudden frustration, in realising how Jongho was doing a poor job at holding down each of the strings that tugged at his limbs, was immense. It made him shudder, feeling a lowness hollow out his chest cavity. How was he able to keep everyone blissful when he was stretched so impossibly thin? The weight of Yunho’s existence was put into his open palms, and he had no one who understood how scared he was of what was to come.

“I forgot,” Jongho replied. He bowed his head, the shame evident in how it coloured his soft voice. “I’m sorry. I’ll apologise… I’m sorry for being out so late. It won’t happen again.”

“You can always talk to me, Jongho,” his mother pressed with. She reached out to grasp Jongho’s shoulder. The male lifted his countenance to see her frown. Her eyes were troubled.

All Jongho knew to do was to apologise once more. When his guardian accepted his sincerity, she left Jongho in the hallway. He stood there to soak up that lasting contrition.

He messaged Sunwoo a dozen or so times to ask to be begged a pardon for his crummy attitude to their friendship. The other male gave minor threats for Jongho’s distance and proceeded to acknowledge and agree to the terms of forgiving Jongho if the other bought him snacks for the next week. Jongho’s coach also conceded at the male’s ruefulness, telling Jongho that he knew how much pressure students were under and just to do his best.

With that, Jongho almost forgot about the guest in his room. He entered with dull movements, wanting nothing more than to drift into a slumber that lasted for days. No responsibilities, no uncertainties. There was nothing required of Jongho in dreams.

Turning on his light to the sight of Yunho’s smile, Jongho swore another rush of guilt came to pervade through him. Because Yunho looked at Jongho as though he were divinity itself.

Jongho didn’t deserve that. Not when every day he left Yunho to be by himself. How Yunho had nothing to do until Jongho returned, apart from reading the same books and playing the same games. All that Jongho could afford to do was that, without any penchant to change things.

Jongho continually returned home when the night came upon them. It left Yunho in the literal dark. The younger male knew Yunho positively hated that, to be stuck with only the starlight to carve out the objects of the room. It was cruel.

_Mistake after mistake. I’m sorry, hyung. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this._

“Did you have a good day?” Yunho welcomed Jongho in, sunny and ebullient.

It was impossible for Jongho not to fall into the exhilaration of the older male’s energy. “It’s better now that I’m with you, hyung. I’m sorry that I’m late. I know it must have been hard.”

Yunho shook his head. He walked forward to snag Jongho into his hold.

He delighted in the younger male’s cry of surprise. The reassurance in the touch elevated them both to be in higher spirits. Jongho took for granted how meaningful a hug was.

“It’s okay, Jongho,” Yunho told him, his pitch light and his embrace gentle.

Jongho laughed when Yunho tried to bombard his form with tickles, lost in the comfortable ease of just being in the other’s presence. Despite their short time together, Jongho found it had been effortless to trust and confide in the older male with each passing day they reached.

_Maybe, in another life –_

That train of thought dissolved abruptly for Jongho. He was treading a fine line between what he wanted, and what he knew needed to happen to bring back normality in his world.

The talk with his mother was a stark reminder of how Jongho’s desire to wake up and fall asleep to Yunho’s benevolent presence wasn’t his to act on. He owed that to the older male.

 _For hyung._ It echoed more than any other introspection did. Jongho pictured what would come about if he let Yunho know about the accident and the details of what may have pushed him to enter into Jongho’s life. There was no way he’d look at Jongho the same.

Jongho contemplated it all, as Yunho layered him in blankets to get him to sleep. The younger male indulged him, where the elder perfected the art of making him feel snug.

The text he recalled played on a loop in his mind. Jongho let the fatigue conquer him soon.

_\-- and, at that moment of the transition of death, the individual becomes chained to the earth. […] Their souls need peace to be able to move on. […] They cannot accept death. They are--_

_..._

_But hyung... I don't want you to leave._

_..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! I'm sorry to not have frequent updates. I really wanted to publish this chapter today, as a thank you to everyone who's been following this story. Thank you so, so much. I can't express my gratitude in words that justify it. I've updated the chapter number as I've outlined the plan to be more concrete. The other night I actually wrote the climax and made myself cry hehe. Thank you again for reading!
> 
> I hope you have a joyful and safe end of the year. I know it's been very strange to live through all that's happened, so I hope you can have peace during the countdown to the new year. I know that many people might not celebrate or simply find no comfort at Christmas. You are in my thoughts today. Thank you for your strength; I know it must be tough. You are not alone. I root for your happiness. ♡


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